


Fevered

by Minky-way (Cardgamesonmotorcycles)



Series: Intravenous [5]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Affairs, Birthdays, Cheating, Developing Relationships, Implied/Referenced Sex, Infidelity, M/M, conclusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardgamesonmotorcycles/pseuds/Minky-way
Summary: He's used to fighting with fists, he's used to fighting in general, but somehow this stalemate has happened and he won't be the one to wave the white flag.It won't end with a bang, it will end with a whisper.-----Otherwise known as: High temperature, or the one with all the fighting





	Fevered

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist @ [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/minky-way/05-Fevered)  
> Playlist @ [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/hikikomoris_camera/playlist/1cCNX8NwNv5ODAXmk68Twi)

Things had been going okay for a while, and that was about the strongest adjective Mizuki felt justified in using, because with Sly things never got much more than good, and with how things seemed to be slipping, that was about the best it would get. So they were just okay, nothing more and nothing less.

But now, suddenly it seemed like things were spiralling out of control, sliding through his grasp too fast for him to catch up and it was headed in such a downhill direction that he could barely see the idealistic top of the slope anymore.

Sly was fading away from him, literally closer but so far gone figuratively that the boy under his arm was almost not there at all, an empty shell and just a body containing a soul he couldn’t seem to understand at all.

They’d had rules, spoken and not, and boundaries that both agreed wouldn’t be crossed but both had broken their word and trust was a hard thing to build up but seemed increasingly easy to break apart completely. Crumbling like the toast Sly left behind at breakfast where he stared blankly at his plate as Mizuki tried to make conversation light and easy and nothing too terrifying for either of them. A chasm had developed right through the salt and pepper pots, the bartender on one side and his guest on the other, smiling emptily when a joke was cracked and doing little to stop or encourage the goodbye kiss he’d been vocal about before.

It was like they’d reached stalemate and Mizuki knew that now of all times was when he had to try hardest but even that seemed like too much effort and these things, relationships, friendships, whatever the hell they had, went two ways.

 

Sly started drinking, and that was tally mark number one on the things they’d agreed just weren’t okay. If they drank they did it together and it was a social thing, they drank and talked and watched TV or played games or whatever else Sly wanted to do, could be talked into doing. Getting drunk, completely _hammered_ at two in the afternoon wasn’t part of that.

The drugs didn’t come until later, but even then there had been allowances since the start, Mizuki turning a blind eye to the smell of more than tobacco in the air, pretending he couldn’t see whites of eyes turning red and eyes blinking too blearily to be truly sober.

 

Mark number two.

 

So from the start he’d been letting things slip past him that weren’t okay, going to the balcony one morning with coffee and to feel the sun on his face after a good night, a great night, where Sly had been almost entirely like a real boyfriend, where they’d had sex but it had been normal and there’d been give and take instead of just take.

The problem was that he wasn’t stupid, but then perhaps he was because he didn’t mention the homemade bong that sat innocuously but so damn obviously in the corner under the metal table and chairs. Just emptied out the bucket of water and threw the cut open plastic bottle into the trash, cleaned up the blackened foil where remnants of burned plant still remained, and kept his idiotic mouth shut.

Pretend there’s no problem and maybe one day there won’t be, logic he’d never used before and would scoff at otherwise, suddenly becoming his very own mantra, the little bit of illogical reasoning he repeated to make himself feel better.

But he didn’t feel better, he didn’t feel much of anything.

 

Another day, another night where he could just about pretend things were fine, where Sly allowed things they both knew he didn’t really want and he’d suddenly become so passive it was a little scary to see. He sat there quietly on the couch and ate popcorn with bitten down fingernails and commented sarcastically about the movie and popped a pill while he thought Mizuki’s back was turned and spent half the night throwing up while the bartender lay awake and listened with coldness in his bones.

Things weren’t working now, and they barely had to begin with, this was bad timing, a stupid idea when Sly’s emotions were so screwed up, when his whole world had been turned upside down, he needed routine now but not somebody else’s. He needed to talk about it, to admit he was grieving, to admit he felt terrible instead of taking showers for three hours and emerging like everything was okay and Mizuki hadn’t seen blood speckled on the floor where he’d cleaned up badly.

 

Tension had never really been something Mizuki had experienced before, not like this anyway, like a coil in his stomach winding tighter even as he mentally tricked himself into thinking exactly the opposite. He just took deep breaths and did what he always did and ignored the problem until things exploded, ignoring Tio’s tentative questions as to how it was going, just answered blandly and stared at him too long thinking that he was about to let the past repeat itself.

He saw couples everywhere now, Tio and Kin barely counted but he saw them that way anyway, Kou and Jin’s low-key thing continuing in the back of his mind even as they kept it on the down low and pretended to bond over dogs and team membership and little else. Koujaku a little more stable now and surrounded by twittering women and one in particular who seemed genuine but was always ignored in favour of taunting Noiz of all people.

As weird as some of those combinations were, they worked, they were normal in the most basic sense of the word. They functioned, they weren’t all shivering lows and sweaty, nerve wracking highs like he and Sly, they didn’t yell and scream and hurt each other or be cold for no reason at all.

 

He hated seeing Tio with Kin, and it was a sudden realisation he couldn't shake off, watching them do their weird joking, flirting thing and feeling his jaw harden, feeling angry suddenly and stomach burning at how unjust this felt. That alone should have made him realise that something was wrong, finding himself feeling an indignant, burning hatred for Kin that made no sense whatsoever when he was nothing but a good guy. He’d been the one to do this, to encourage them to make friends but now he wanted Tio for himself again, hated having to share him with somebody else, wanted somebody who was there for him no matter what because Sly had never been a replacement for that.

He could almost _feel_ Tio growing warmer towards Kin and even though that didn’t mean he was being colder to Mizuki, that was how he felt, pretending not to be hurt when they were everywhere together and so fucking close the rift between him and Sly looked colossal in comparison.

 

“What are you so moody about?”

“I’m not moody.” His head twists to the side and he spits his response and he can feel his brows furrow angrily as his arms tense and he taps ash into the tray with unnecessary aggression.

“Okay, so what’re you thinking about?”

“Tio.”

“Alright, why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hm, sounds like someone’s got a crush.”  
There’s unnecessary spite again, anger where there shouldn’t be and words that should have been said with a laugh of derision are only cementing whatever it is Sly thinks. “Fuck off, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“So what did you mean?” No answer was forthcoming and Sly’s nostrils flared when he remained stubbornly silent too long, shaking his head and exhaling a disparaging huff as if this was an actual relationship and he could feel something encroaching on their constructed normalcy. “Maybe you need to stop trying to make things happen that never will.”

Mark number three.

Jealousy was not a streak he’d thought Sly had but he’d been wrong. He barely knew him at all and the chilling look he shot him across the battlefield of breakfast just solidified that he’d made a dumb decision again and that he knew already how this would end, what would happen and who he’d end up hurting.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d get jealous of me thinking about somebody else.”

Petty. He is petty, and childish and stubborn to a fault and perhaps after all this time with Sly he is starting to morph into him, perhaps it works both ways, because while the bartender is all snapping angst and unwarranted rage, Sly is quiet and reasonable.

“The thinking is fine.”

“Okay, so what is it you have a problem with?”

“The looking.”

“You sound like my boyfriend.”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be?”

“Supposed to?”

“Fine, what you want me to be, what I’m pretending to be.”

“You’re not pretending very well.” Mizuki hasn’t been meeting his eye this whole time, but now he looks up and he dares say those yellow orbs are disappointed as Sly exhales disbelievingly and dumps his toast. He still doesn’t eat enough and he debates mentioning this, but his chair has been pushed out and the back door slams before he can turn this off himself and onto Sly.

 

He never stays to argue these days, just stands and leaves and allows everything to remain unspoken. Mizuki isn’t sure if he prefers it.

 

* * *

 

 

Every day is a new argument, a new reason for Sly to be annoyed at him, a new reason for Mizuki to have apparently done something wrong, a new way to fuck things up.

Sly is hard work, he knows that, he’s always known that, but he didn’t think he’d get so exhausted of it, of _him_ , this damn quickly and now when he looks across the couch to his scowling company he can’t help but feel like he might have made a mistake.

Worse than the growing dread in his stomach is the horrible feeling that perhaps he is making this obvious, he is less willing to try and start conversation when he knows Sly will be objectionable, he lets him do what he pleases now and doesn’t try to bring him closer, physically or mentally. He just, lets him be, and he thinks Sly can tell something is wrong, thinks he can feel the distance between them like a tangible thing, like he could reach out and cut the final, razor thin threads holding them together.

It’s only a matter of time before they snap on their own.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s complaining about work, more so about how weird everyone seems to be being, how Tio and Kin keep whispering amongst themselves and laughing as if at a private joke he is not privy to. He doesn’t enjoy feeling left out, nor feeling ignored both at home and at work, he is not attention seeking but nobody wants to be pushed aside everywhere they go. Nobody wants to feel like they’re losing a friend.

But Sly doesn’t chip in and be on his side or call him paranoid or anything, he sits, curled up in a corner of the couch and stares at him with eyes so blank Mizuki would think he wasn’t even listening if it wasn’t for the slightest curl of his lip as he mutters some ridiculous suggestion that Kin is turning Tio against him.

He’s being ignored here too, or at the very least, silently judged, and the paranoia and sleepless nights and worrying about what he even feels for Sly are building up and he feels like that little kid again, unheard in a room full of others who could scream louder, throw a worse tantrum. In a room full of kids people actually cared about.

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.” It’s an innocuous, true enough statement but it comes too late, or too nonchalantly and Mizuki isn’t really pleased that his only reaction is one that entirely undermines the fact that he is upset, or frustrated or whatever he is.

“If you understand me so well then why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with me? If you can psychoanalyse me or whatever the _fuck_ it is you’re doing when you _stare_ at me like that, fucking tell me!”

Their roles have definitely reversed, Mizuki is yelling for no good reason and Sly barely blinks, regarding him as if he’s a particularly dull painting in an outdated museum. If he is paint, he is chipping.

He licks his lips and it seems to take forever, the bartender waiting, chest heaving with the effort of all this, the yelling and the confusion as to why things have gone wrong again and as to why this time he seems to be leading the charge into disaster.

“You’ve done it before! So do it again! Explain me!”

He doesn’t want to speak, it’s obvious in the shake of his head, lips drying out before he forms words, fingers still on the handle of his mug and he’s not sure when his living room became so very dead. But he sighs again and he’s swallowed up by the huge couch he curls into, smoke trailing around his head and Mizuki could swear he looks defeated, but then his mouth falls open and he’s speaking and he even _sounds_ defeated.

“I told you once that I liked it here because you didn’t expect anything from me.” He abruptly stops again and Mizuki thinks he is done speaking, growing increasingly aggravated as he doesn’t just do as he’s asked. But then he continues in the second he goes to snap and he’s pretty sure the beer in his bottle would have been decorating his wall if he’d spoken just a millisecond later. “I was wrong. You see the best in people, which is good, I guess. Good for me. But then you get sick of people when they’re not good _enough_. You want people to be perfect. You want Tio to be a perfect best friend, and your team to be perfect friends and me to be a perfect _whatever._ ”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You can think what you want. But you have no idea how people are meant to act. You’ve got this picture in your head, this bullshit picture of a family, or parents or _whatever_. And it isn’t fucking _real_!” He snaps a little then, and it’s the most emotion he’s shown in a good few days, his vulnerable need for closeness has seemingly died as fast as Mizuki’s desire to try and keep this going, to try and let this build to something. But he’s frustrated rather than angry, he looks like he’s been holding this back for a while and never really intended to spill it until it was forced out of him at what might as well be knife-point given the sharpness in Mizuki’s voice.

“You don’t know what I’ve got in my head.”

“Yeah I do, or you wouldn’t have asked me to tell you what it was. I- Jesus, Mizuki, people can’t be moulded into whatever you want. People are shit, and they let you down, and they hurt you and they are never what you want them to be. How do you not know that? How can you be almost exactly the same as me and yet still be so naive?”

“How am I the same as you?” He scoffs, offended at the suggestion because they could not be more different and he’s always been a little grateful for that, because sure, he can see the good in people, but he’s always liked to think the goodness in him takes centre stage.

“Tell me about your childhood. From the start. You’re an orphan, but then what?”

“I got adopted.”

“Then they left too?”

“Yeah. Then,” he hesitates, because he suddenly knows where this is leading, what point Sly is about to make and he’s surprised to note he was too dumb to connect the dots himself and realise that their beginnings took the same journey up to a certain point. “I took care of myself.”

“We’re exactly the same. Both dumped at birth, both adopted then dumped again. We are _exactly the same_. But I know what people are like and you’re still stuck on this stupid, childish idea of what family is meant to be.”

That settles for a moment, hanging heavy in Sly’s mouth and the thick taste of the words remaining on his tongue to coat it with bitter, sticky truth as he thinks that perhaps the silence means Mizuki agrees with him.

He’s proved wrong incredibly quickly.

“I don’t even know what I was expecting. You don’t know _anything_ about me! You know what? Whatever, I’m not listening to this.”

“You’re doing it now!” He is infuriated, Mizuki has asked to be told his flaws and won’t let even a modicum of himself accept them, he won’t even consider that they might be true, he’s just stuck in his self-perception as a perfect human and now Sly is questioning that he doesn’t appreciate it. “You asked me for the truth and you can’t stand to hear it because you want me to lie, you want me to say you’re perfect! You want me to pretend everything’s fine and you’re not thinking about Tio when you fuck me!”

That should do it, Sly thinks.

And of course, it does.

 

The beer is in its rightful place all over his wall, there’s broken glass and it would crunch under his feet if he hadn’t walked in the exact opposite direction, grabbing his leather jacket so hard the stand topples to the ground and takes an ornament with it.

He is, it seems, entirely set on destroying everything he owns.

He pulls the door open and it slams into the sideboard, rattling the DVD’s inside and he storms right into a tall, broad body, and the last person who should have been standing outside his apartment, knuckles raised to knock and able to hear _every word._

Sly doesn’t even have the heart to laugh.

“Tio told me to get you. We’re about to open.” Kin’s voice isn’t cold, it isn’t anything other than hesitant, though not with nervousness.

He should just go downstairs, but he turns back and there’s a threat in his voice there shouldn’t be as he points at Sly with an angry finger, “I’m not done with you.”

“I’ll be right here when you get back. Go have fun with _Tio._ ”

 

Things are as normal as they can be when he gets into the bar, Tio greets him with a smile and his lips are too pink. Mizuki stares.

“You okay? Sounds like things were getting a little crazy up there.” He gestures to the ceiling, to the apartment above where Sly is doing whatever it is he does when left alone, probably trying to ruin more of the bartenders life, that seems to be his favourite hobby, and Mizuki has to grudgingly admit it, he is good at it.

But the bartender waves him off and pretends he can’t feel animosity flooding off Kin in waves where he stands entirely too close to Tio as if marking his territory, as if that is something that needs to be done, “just a disagreement.”

“What about?”

“Nothing important.” And Kin’s eyes flash at the implication.

 

Kin is dumber than Mizuki thought. Or he has to be, he keeps space between Tio and the bartender all night as if he’s about to pounce on him, as if he believes Sly’s stupid, spite-driven lie. Sly is not a person to be trusted, or believed it seems, he’s willing to make up any bullshit to hurt other people, but for once it hasn’t worked because his suggestion isn’t upsetting, if anything it’s logical and perhaps that is why Kin keeps shooting hooded looks his way.

He’s definitely marking his territory, he is touching Tio a frankly unnecessary amount and the other has definitely noticed, there is no need for Kin to put hands on his waist as he slips past to reach the spirits, and no need for him to stand so incredibly close.

He definitely knows something is going on, but keeps his mouth shut until the shift is over and he’s beginning to wipe down the surfaces with a wet cloth, mildly annoyed but not surprised when Kin puts a hand on the small of his back and tilts his head to the exit.

“Let’s go, Tio, Mizuki said he can clean up by himself.”

“He did? Shouldn’t we help? He’ll be here forever.”

“I’m sure he can manage.” He’s got a hand on his bicep but his voice is a little too hard and Tio feels uncomfortable at the contact, like he’s being carefully steered out of the bar, knowing that Mizuki always needs help cleaning up. “Let’s just go home.”

“Let me at least say bye,” he looks distinctly displeased at this idea, but nods and releases him nonetheless and something is definitely wrong as he remains a constant, towering shadow as he passes through the beaded curtain to the back room.

 

“Mizuki, Kin said you don’t need help cleaning up, are you sure?”

“I didn’t say that,” he’s smiling but it’s serpentine and Tio hasn’t noticed. “I said I’d appreciate some help cleaning up. Maybe he misunderstood?”

“Maybe I did.” The subtext flies over Tio’s head but he can feel an atmosphere, narrowing his eyes at Kin as if demanding he tell him what’s going on the second they’re actually done for the night.

 

“Did you and Mizuki have a disagreement or something?” He considered using the word ‘argument’, but he really can’t imagine that happening and the word ‘disagreement’ is far broader.

“No,” he replies, and Tio thinks that maybe he’s going to get an answer to what on earth had been going on all shift, but his voice is crisp as the grip around his hand tightens and he decides perhaps it’s better not to pry. “I think we understand each other perfectly.”

 

* * *

 

 

If what Sly said is true, and for some reason Kin finds himself thinking that it is, he really has no time to waste in making sure Mizuki understands that Tio is off-limits, as creepily possessive and jealous as that makes him feel. He’s spent so long waiting for Tio, and now that it seems he’s actually embracing the idea of them maybe one day being together, he isn’t willing to let Mizuki ruin things. The mere idea he’d try makes his mouth dry and his hands clench at his sides with indignation because some things are just not okay, and that is distinctly one of them. Mizuki had his chance with Tio and he blew it because he never felt the same, it’s Kin’s turn now and he won’t let anything get in the way even as he knows that’s not how it works and people don’t neatly take turns when it comes to relationships or much else.

But if they go on the date they keep rescheduling, he figures that will cement something that would require more than a little asshole behaviour to ruin, it will mean they are _dating_ , and somebody would have to be pretty shitty to try and butt into that.

 

So that’s how he finds himself outside Tio’s apartment in the middle of the day one Wednesday when he knows, _hopes_ , they’re both free. He calls instead of knocking though, because if he isn’t in he’d rather just turn and leave than be left in front of an empty apartment like an idiot, in fact he’d rather pretend he’s somewhere else entirely.

“Are you free?”

“Like, right now? Yeah, I’m just making food,” he juggles his coil a little precariously considering there is a bubbling pan directly beneath it, tucking it into his shoulder awkwardly because his hands are busy and he’d taken it off his wrist to avoid water damage while he scrubbed the vegetables. “Why?”

“I’m outside.”

“You’re-? Ugh, give me a minute.”

It takes more than a minute, and Kin stands in front of his door looking shiftier than he’d like, earning a glare from the old woman who lives opposite Tio and he’s certain she’s watching him through her peep-hole long after her door closes.

 

But the door finally swings open and Kin definitely heard the old neighbour clump away into her apartment, presumably reassured he’s not some murderer or stalker as Tio greets him complete with apron and wooden spoon. “Hi, to what do I owe this honour? And what are you hiding?”

He ignores the second question, keeping one hand behind his back and deciding to explain his reasoning because he knows it’s kinda rude to turn up unannounced, but he supposes he had good intentions. “Well, every time we try to arrange something, something gets in the way so I figured, I’d just find out when you were free for like a few hours and… Turn up.”  
“Like a surprise date?”

“I guess. I know you don’t like surprises, I know, um- I just, it was never gunna happen otherwise so. Surprise?”

“I- I mean, I’m right in the middle of cooking. And I’m hardly dressed for it,” his outfit could best be described as comfortable, or scruffy, if the observer was feeling mean, a pair of loose tracksuit pants and a baggy shirt with several stains visible just around the neck let alone under what the apron covered. His feet are bare and curl into his carpet nervously as Kin runs a quick eye across his attire.

“That’s fine! I can help! Cookery date, that’s a thing right?”

“I’m not sure it is,” his eyes narrow but he’s smiling and he moves aside to let Kin in anyway, not making his attempts to peek behind his back very subtle even as Kin seems to remember his secret and reveals a succulent with such bumbling movements Tio is surprised there’s any soil left in the pot.

“Well it is now! Oh, and I thought flowers were too cheesy and I don’t know what you like but I know you like plants, so I got you a plant.”

“Yo- Oh my god you’re _so_ embarrassing,” his cheeks are bright red and he looks significantly flustered as he turns away towards the kitchen and waves for him to follow behind, which he does like an overgrown puppy. “Come in, my rice is about to boil over. And, thanks… For the plant, one of mine had an accident so there’s a space for it in the kitchen.”

“An accident?”

“I got drunk and watered it with sake, it wasn’t a fan.”

“Oh. Well, rest in peace, I guess.”

He garnered such an incredulous expression then that he flushed all the way up to his ears, mumbling something about trying to be funny that Tio just ignored, “how are you with a knife? Oh, dumb question, never mind.” He looked around for a task suitable for the clumsiest man he’d ever met, remembering with a sadistic grin the task his mother had always given him as a young boy, attaching such dramatic importance to it that he’d always beamed at being so helpful even while doing nothing at all. “Here, you can hold this spoon for me, then we can say we both made it!”

“You want me to hold a spoon?”

“A _wooden_ spoon, it’s _very_ important,” he makes sure to stress his words as if this is a truly essential task instead of a cop-out to avoid broken limbs, kitchen fires and blood splatters, smiling encouragingly if not a little mockingly when Kin takes it with an unimpressed frown.  
“I’m not that clumsy,” he chose that moment to whack his head off an open cupboard, almost tripping over his shoelaces in the same instant and regarding Tio sheepishly as he holds his spoon aloft in a promise to not so much as try and help.

 

“You can set the table without destroying everything, right?”

Kin rolls his eyes but leaves the kitchen to do as he’s asked anyway, Tio having pointed out the cutlery drawer and telling him to get them both drinks out of the fridge, a beer for him and coke for Kin since he probably shouldn’t drink then go to work.

Tio had relented and allowed him to cut up the meat he was putting into the curry, spending a good five minutes watching in horrible anticipation as the knife skimmed Kin’s fingers one too many times yet still somehow avoided drawing blood. It was kinda nice in all honesty, to not only have someone to keep him company while he cooked, but to be able to eat with somebody too, and he knew Kin didn’t eat proper meals very often so he felt reassured that he’d know at least today he’d go to work with a full stomach.

He didn’t think he was a particularly lonely person, he’d always enjoyed the peace solitude gave him, and was almost always perfectly fine with his own company, a mug of tea and a good book or whatever show he was currently binging. But he had to admit it was nice too, to share his apartment with Kin for a few hours, to have somebody else fill some of the space in his long galley kitchen, to sit opposite him at the dining table. Eating meals in silence wasn’t something he did anyway, he’d always have music on or be watching a video on his coil, but it was nice to have conversation too, to take time eating because there was a real distraction from his steaming plate.

Kin washes up and miraculously doesn’t smash anything or get his hand stuck in the plughole or whatever other disaster might befall somebody like him, and since he’s got another hour or two before he has to set off for work at the restaurant, Tio puts a movie on. They lounge on his sofa and poke holes in the far-fetched sci-fi plot until Kin announces he has to go and Tio really only misses his presence once he’s gone.

He’d asked if he could kiss him goodbye, and Tio hadn’t really known what to say so he’d just shrugged and said that he guessed they _were_ dating now, and Kin had been fine with that. In all honesty, Tio had to admit he was too.

 

* * *

 

 

“You really think I want to fuck Tio?”

“Mm-hm,” he answers him over the top of a collection of short horror stories. He’s been raiding the bookshelves for entertainment it seems, fingers slowly underlining the words as he works his way down the page, mouth fluttering along silently. “I think it’s stranger that you haven’t realised.”

“You’re being very calm about this.”

“Out of character, isn’t it?” he grins wide and cheeky, putting the book down into his lap, mindful of Amaya whose head and front legs drape ungracefully across his thigh, feline face almost smiling and eyes barely open, fighting sleep. “I figure as long as you _don’t_ fuck him, it’s not really a problem. Besides, that boy-toy of his would kill you if you tried.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I forgot to thank you for inadvertently letting him know your theory,” he earns a blank look and rolls his eyes as he simplifies his words. Sly isn’t stupid, but he’s uneducated, this much is clear when watching him read and struggle with something most could breeze through, “you accidentally let him know your theory, I’m being sarcastic.”

“I didn’t _mean_ him to hear it, wrong place, wrong time. Besides, this makes things better, right? Now you can’t even try to fuck Tio without him going crazy, and then when you’re all sad and teary about it, I can lure you into bed, rip your bollocks off with my bare hands and keep them as a trophy.”

All this is said with that same, small smile, perfectly reasonably as if he isn’t gently threatening him, and it’s unnerving how placid and tranquil he is even as he untangles claws from his jeans and regards the pulls of thread they’ve created. He stands then, still appearing perfectly reasonable as he approaches and somehow his threat isn’t very threatening, believable yes, but not actively scary.

“He’s easier than me,” Mizuki raises an eyebrow at his phrasing and Sly huffs a tiny laugh through his nose. “Not like that. He’s easier to deal with, he’s considerate, and you two are such good friends already that it’d be so easy to just work your way into a relationship with him and there’s the rest of your life all neatly sorted out and in place. You don’t love him, but so what? You probably will eventually and love isn’t _that_ important anyway, you can work without it fine.”

The bartender doesn’t respond, just watches the boy who stands in front of him and somehow, wondrously, puts into words the things that have been swirling around his head for weeks, the things he hasn’t mentioned. He’s smarter than he looks and Mizuki isn’t sure how he feels about Sly’s neutral, almost understanding expression even as he feels his own change with guilt or realisation or something.

Because he’s right, and they both know it.

“But I’ll be difficult forever, we’ll never get to that ‘holding hands in the street, curling up on the couch, disgustingly in love’, phase. You know that, and maybe when you asked me to stay you actually thought we could get there, you wanted us to. But now…” He looks reluctant for a second, and if Mizuki was paying more attention he’d see how pained his eyes look even as the rest of him is relaxed and his tone is matter-of-fact. “Now you’re thinking it’s too much effort, I’m too closed off and cold, and I’m not what you wanted me to be. That’s on you, you can’t go blaming me for being myself.”

He takes a step back and his arms are in his pockets, shrugging and smiling as if it doesn’t hurt to say this, “so, let me know when you’ve had enough, and I’ll make it nice and easy for once. I’ll just leave, it’d be nice to be the one to leave for once.”

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” his voice is really quiet, but since they’re not yelling for once, Sly hears him and the thickness of his tone, how disappointed he is in himself for admitting this, for giving up so easily. For proving Sly right. Somehow he expects anger now, expects that the second Sly knows he will snap and his bollocks really will be in a jar somewhere instead of safely nestled in his pants.

His jaw is a little tighter, but Mizuki’s head is tilted down and it seems he wants eye-contact for once because his pale hand comes to cup his cheek and it’s a soft touch as it pushes into his hair and the bartender feels strangely comforted.

“Oh, sweetie,” he knows immediately that he won’t like whatever Sly says, bracing himself for the rebuttal he knows is coming. “You’re cute, you really are. But even if I had a heart, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

“Did your brother take the last of it?”

“Yeah, guess he did.”

 

* * *

 

 

He hadn’t lied when he told Mizuki that his brother had taken the last of his heart, nor would he be ashamed to admit that it had been a really big chunk, but he also hadn’t lied when he said he’d try to follow his brother’s advice. After the weirdly disconnected talk they’d had, where the bartender admitted this would be ending soon, he’d locked himself on the balcony in the cool night air, closed his eyes and pictured him.

No hospital tubes, no white gowns, just him. Long black hair loose around his shoulders, his favourite hoodie in the pastel purple with the English message neither of them could read but looked good anyway. He closes his eyes and lies there long enough to summon up his voice, that soft, affectionate tone he _always_ had, and what advice he would have given comes easily.

So he closes his eyes, and lets the scents of green apple and tea wash over him, and the flood of warmth that fills his mind is almost as welcome as the wetness on his cheeks.

The boy living in his head holds his hand and tells him this isn’t his fault, he’s proud and he knows how hard Sly tried to make this easier so maybe it might work, says he knows he was scared and how much he’s grown just by trying to open up.

His brother rubs thin fingers over his scarred knuckles and says that sometimes things just aren’t meant to be but that he should learn from this. He says it’s okay to be sad and it’s okay to be angry and it’s okay to feel any way he feels. It’s okay to feel scared, or betrayed or abandoned. It’s okay to feel that he’s been left behind again.

It’s okay to feel lonely.

When Sly’s eyes open the stars are covered by thick grey clouds and he lies there long enough for thunder to boom and the storm to break.

 

He still doesn’t love Mizuki, he’s sure of that, but the bartender is all he has left, the only person who has really understood him other than his brother, and his twin never really knew what he was like. Mizuki is his best friend and honestly his only friend because he hasn’t heard from Noiz in so long he may as well be dead, and perhaps he is, Sly isn’t sure how much he’d care either way. Mizuki is stability and normalcy and acceptance and even though his heart is apparently entirely gone now, there’s a stabbing pain in the left side of his chest and it hurts so badly that he almost can’t stand it.

He walks into the bedroom and Mizuki stares at him and he stares at Mizuki, and it’s like they’re finally on an equal playing field, there’s nothing to argue about anymore and they’ve reached a horrible stalemate.

 

They fuck, which seems a little weird given the understanding they’ve now come to, that this is winding down, that Sly’s best wasn’t good enough and that Mizuki’s patience had worn thin and depleted altogether. Mizuki’s weight bears down on top of him as he fucks him into the mattress and Sly says his name entirely too much, trying to find something to grasp onto and only damp sheets answering his call. It’s hard and desperate and exactly how Sly likes it but Mizuki won’t stretch down to kiss him and the building coil in his gut makes him feel sick even as his nails dig into tanned wrists to leave marks that are more permanent than they’ve ever been.

 

Mizuki slumps over him, panting into the air between them and head hung low, but he still barely touches him and when he rolls off him and onto his back there’s too much space between them.

Sly almost feels like he may as well not be there as the air stills and stagnates and neither of them has anything to say because there is no saving this and Sly refuses to grow any more attached.

“You’ll miss me.”

He doesn’t bother moving to look at him, just responds in kind with a low exhale that’s more ashamed than either of them expected, “yeah.”

“You know you’re the only good thing in my life.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he whispers, and Mizuki’s hand worms across the mattress to take his and they lie there, holding hands and staring silently at the ceiling for entirely too long.

 

* * *

 

 

He wasn’t actually intending on spying on them, he’d been getting his caffeine fix for the day as well as using any excuse to be out of his flat and away from Sly, tucked into an empty booth in the bubbling coffee shop, glancing around lazily.

So he hadn’t intended to watch anybody, but then his eyes had spotted them and he was only surprised for a moment, eyebrows furrowing because Kou looked distressed as he spoke and stared at his mug, unable to hear his words but fingers twisting nervously in his lap. Talking about Beni-Shigure perhaps, that seemed most likely anyway, his company nodding along and letting him say all he needed to, sipping his own drink and Mizuki noticing, with great amusement, the small dog curled up under the table, between their feet.

Just like Jin to sneak a dog into somewhere.

He didn’t feel his stare was invasive until he noticed what looked like tears forming in Kou’s eyes, hand wiping at his nose and shaking visibly as he lowered it again, still speaking but with difficulty.

So he looked away because this was none of his business and he really wasn’t in any mood to get involved, waiting a good five minutes before he couldn’t resist looking over again, steamer stopping in its screaming for long enough to hear words.

“Blaming yourself, it’s not yo-“ But the words weren’t what surprised him, it was their hands, joined on the table between them, Kou smiling weakly as a thumb rubbed across his knuckles and cheeks a tiny bit pink. Now that he hadn’t expected.

They’d given him his coffee in a to-go cup and he’s glad of that because he doesn’t want to be there watching this relationship forming, he wants to be anywhere else and there is stupid jealousy in his chest. He also wonders, belatedly as he finishes his coffee and dumps the cup into somebodies trash can, just when all his friends suddenly became gay, because honestly the proportions are ridiculously high. He supposes that wouldn’t be the case if they were on the mainland, because while not much outside news really gets to them, he knows that mainland Japan isn’t anywhere near to as progressive as Midorijima is.

He would be grateful for that if it didn’t mean he’s growing increasingly aware of everybody he knows pairing off, homosexual or otherwise, and honestly, with how Kin and Tio are going, he’s beginning to think that after Sly leaves, it’ll be hard to even find a one night stand let alone something more permanent.

 

He is distinctly moody by the time he gets back to his apartment after several entirely unnecessary stops at grocery stores and that one clothing store with the cool leather jackets, arms weighed down with food he doesn’t really need.

Any excuse to stay out of the apartment.

He unloads it into the cupboards at first, regarding their bursting seams for a minute before realising he’s done something stupid and they’ll definitely be getting takeaway because he is absolutely in no mood to cook.

He sighs and rubs at his head, feeling like everything inside is escaping and making him look as crazy and confused as he feels, knowing that he has to deal with Sly and feeling guilty that he considers it as that, as a task when only a little while ago he’d be thrilled to get home and find him there.

Misery loves company, he’s heard that so many times over the years and he’d never believed it for a second, because nobody wants to bring somebody else down with their own pathetic feelings. But he thinks he understands now because he and Sly don’t exactly talk about their feelings, but they exist together in mutual pain.

Misery doesn’t love company, but miserable people do.

He ignores Sly when he finally exits the safety of the kitchen to feed Amaya in the living room, scratching behind her ears as she runs nimbly to her bowls, water freshly topped up and what looks suspiciously like bacon rind in a bowl that should be empty.

“I’ve told you not to feed her scraps, she’ll get sick,” Sly doesn’t answer but then the bartender expects that, bristling with irritation about being ignored in his own home, by somebody who lives there for free, leaving Amaya to her unnecessary feast and pacing across the room to regard him. “What are you doing?”

“I took some pills.” He looks blissed out, flopped across the couch and eyes barely even open, expression lazy and grinning sloppily as he turns his head to meet the voice, beaming as if it’s been his best idea yet, and perhaps it is.

“Yeah, how’d you feel?”

“Amazing.”

“Oh, good.” It’s sarcastic, but Sly is too high on whatever he took to care, and Mizuki heads to his gym because he can’t really bring himself to care either.

 

* * *

 

 

Mizuki’s skipped out on work, which would be weird but he actually looks pretty exhausted so Tio tells him they can handle it and Kin smiles thinly from behind him and they all pretend there’s no weird tension in the air.

There is.

Tio feels like he’s drowning in it.

 

* * *

 

 

Conversation is the only way to break awkward silences and to try and figure out what’s going on, but he decided pretty rapidly that he’s too bad with confrontation to actively question Kin about what’s going on between him and Mizuki.

Instead he asks something intentionally mundane and wishes, not for the first time, that he wasn’t always so afraid of just being direct. “Hey, what are you doing on Tuesday?”

“Nothing much, the restaurant doesn’t need me, they’ve got this policy about not working if it’s your b-“ He pauses abruptly and he’s certainly suspicious as he changes the subject and his eyes narrow. “Why..?”

Tio snorts at his pathetic attempt to deflect the conversation, throwing a damp cloth at him and mildly pleased when one corner slaps him in the face even as he catches it, “Wow, really great job there, idiot, I already _know_ it’s your birthday on Tuesday, that’s why I’m asking. I thought you might want to do something.”

“I don’t really have the cash,” he shrugs, then his words start spilling out too fast and any calm he’d had admitting that washes away down the drain as he proceeds to dig himself a hole, unaware that Tio knows he’s short on money, he _always_ is, and he’s not about to freak out and set up a Kickstarter for him. “I mean, I do, I’m not like, _starving_ or anything, like I’m fine, just don’t want to spend it unless I have to, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. But come on, just a burger or something, my treat, since it’s an event.”

He’s got his back to Tio, so he can’t see his expression, but he knows the tone and it’s not one he much likes, it’s self-belittling and makes it sound like a birthday is no different to any other day. “It’s not like I’m turning 25 or anything, it’s not an important birthday.”

  
“It’s still a birthday you should at leas- Wait, what do you mean, 25, don’t you mean 30?”

“Why would I mean 30?”

Kin’s stopped putting chairs away and the dishwashers beeping is ignored as Tio’s eyes narrow and his tone is insistent and uncertain, asking a question he’s never thought to before “how old are you?”

“Turning 23, how old did you _think_ I was?”

“You’re twenty two?” His mouth has fallen slack and the steam from the dishwasher escapes to scald his thighs, stepping away smartly but barely reacting to the pain, Kin looks amused but his smile is already beginning to falter as he shrugs with an uncomfortable laugh and begins to shuffle.

“Clearly. Why do you look so horrified?”

“You- You’re an _infant_!” Kin winces and he’s rubbing at the back of his neck. He does that when he’s really nervous, Tio knows that, and if he wasn’t so incredibly shocked he’d feel bad for being the cause. “I’m old enough to be your mother!”

“Not sure that’s true. I mean, come on, it’s not that big an age gap.”

“5 years is fairly significant…” He lets that hang in the air, implying Kin has been lying to him, tone colder than he means it to be because after all the effort and convincing it had taken him to agree to date Kin, this huge road bump has emerged from nowhere and he really thinks he should have known this before he agreed to anything.

“Oh shit, are you actually grossed out? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he’s faltering and something in his eyes is scared, now he’s showing his age and Tio hates to think that because he’s practically a teenager still, advancing cautiously and circling the bar to stand a good distance away from him like he expects to be pushed away “I-I didn’t think it was that important? I mean I’m obviously wrong… Tio? Would you say something I’m feeling like I’m kinda fucked right now.”

He doesn’t like to see him so nervous, almost frightened and eyes flitting all over him like he’s messed up just by being born too late, eyebrows twitching nervously as Tio laughs suddenly, a rather manic burst.

“You’re lying. You _can’t_ be 22, you- I remember being 22, I was crazy, I got drunk all the time and slept around and was kind of a prick. No, no, you’re not 22 you’re too _old_ to be 22.”

“And yet here I am, about to turn 23.” He steps closer, cautiously, and Tio is reasoning that it makes sense, the acne scars, his clumsiness as if he still hasn’t quite adjusted to the size of his body, his ability to function on little sleep and his preference of energy drink over coffee.

“You- You’re really 22?”

“Yeah, I- I guess I grew up fast? I- Tio is this like a deal-breaker or something?” He looks a little like he’s going to be sick and when he reaches for Tio’s hands he holds on like he’s a life-raft, “I-I thought you already knew, that Mizuki told you or showed you my CV or something, hell, I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to hide it or anything.”

His brain is working so fast, trying to figure out if it’s okay, if this age difference is acceptable, if it changes how he feels about Kin, swallowing and realising with irritation that Mizuki had known this and not said a word. But then, perhaps he hadn’t felt it important either, and considering Sly is even younger than Kin, he figures that maybe nobody will bat an eye.

He’s unnerved, he’ll admit that, but Kin’s expression is earnest and he feels awful at how scared and folded-in he looks, bothered more than anything at the fact that he’s made him afraid without even raising his voice. He didn’t know he was capable of that. He doesn’t like it.

But even with this being revealed, he knows it wasn’t meant to be a secret, knows it wasn’t intentionally kept hidden from him, can feel it in the tremor of Kin’s hands how guilty he feels for what is basically a lie of omission. But his hands are still soft on his, he still smells like the ocean and cheap ramen, and he’s still the only person Tio can imagine himself taking a chance for, the only person he’d risk repeating his past with. So he shakes his head and smiles and squeezes his hands and feels so much better when Kin’s eyes crinkle with a nervous grin, that lopsided one with the killer dimple.

“No- I know that, I jus- I thought you were at least 25, you know cause- Wait,” Kin freezes like a deer in the headlights at his sharp tone, then laughs when he continues and it seems everything is fine again. “You better not have more growing to do! You’re already too damned tall.”

“Too tall for what?”

“Everything.” He can tell Kin is trying to flirt, but he’s still so stunned at learning his age that he can’t really retaliate with anything but half-hearted insults, he doesn’t, however, have the heart to stay moody when Kin swings his hands and gives him that apologetic, sincere expression.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s fine, you just surprised me, that’s all,” he can feel Kin trying to draw him into a hug, thinking to himself again just what an affectionate person he is as he concedes and wraps arms around his middle. He’s too damned tall for Tio to reach his neck.

He complains about Kin’s height almost constantly, but really, he likes it that when they hug Kin’s at the perfect height to nose into his neck, to exhale words into his hair, that he can be so easily surrounded.

He likes the damned tree, all six feet of him, but he’s never going to admit it, it’s too much fun to taunt him and he has the feeling everyone knows the truth anyway, Kin included.

“No more surprises, and we should do something for my birthday, if you want to.”

“It’s more that I think you should, but fine. We should finish cleaning up.”

“Mm-hm, but let me do the heavy lifting, wouldn’t want you putting your hip out, since you’re like, _super_ old.”

“If you’re not careful there will be a problem,” he threatens, but he smiles when Kin laughs and presses a kiss into his hair, rolling his eyes because trust him to be dating the oldest 22 year old in the world.

 

* * *

 

 

So they go out to celebrate, despite Kin’s insistence that it isn’t a big enough birthday to need recognition. He’s still getting dressed when Tio arrives and lets himself in, door left unlocked in anticipation of his arrival, creating the perfect scenario for him to hide the box in his arms under the couch before he emerges.

“There’s an iron mark on your back.”

“Huh?” He twists around as if he’s going to be able to angle himself someway to see the offending burn, giving up to slip his arms out of the sleeves instead and turning the whole shirt around. “Oh, it must be the one I was ironing when we-“ He falters, hesitating before he speaks and both of them remember when this happened, Tio supposing it is in some way his fault the shirt is ruined now. “When we had that argument.”

Silence falls between them and Tio feels really guilty, suddenly the celebration this was meant to be has turned into a capsulated replay of their past idiocies, shifting uncomfortably and there’s a feeling this is slipping from a good idea into a disaster.

 

But Kin goes to change and re-emerges in a shirt that is both less formal and also not burned, a couple of buttons popped to combat the warm summer air, flinging an arm around Tio’s shoulders and asking where his ‘very bestest friend’ is taking him for their romantic meal.

Tio isn’t sure where romance came into it, remarking in the blandest voice he can that if he’s not careful he’ll end up at Maji burger, and then Kin, the sap that he is, says with honest conviction that he wouldn’t mind, as long as they spend his birthday together.

They don’t hold hands on the way, they seem to have settled into a strange unspoken agreement that outward, publically visible affection is to be saved for after their shifts when the streets are mostly empty. Keeping this on the down-low was his idea after all, and he knows that the second he gives Kin his present later he’ll be so ecstatic he’ll be smothered with genuine and not entirely unwelcomed affection. He might even be looking forward to it.

 

The place they end up in isn’t exactly romantic, it’s the Italian place Tio has heard is good from about twenty different people, and has been planning on checking out anyway, there are candles on the tables but they remain thankfully unlit, and it’s about half filled with families and groups of friends. Distinctly _not_ romantic, yet just nice enough compared to their regular haunts to be deserving of its choice for a celebration meal.

It’s also affordable enough that Kin doesn’t look too guilty about Tio’s offer to treat, scanning down the list of pizzas, pastas, and salads which go dutifully ignored, and both of them ordering beers while they wait for their meals to be cooked.

The potato skins are apparently to die for, so Tio insists they get a plate to share as a starter, and adds a garlic bread last minute when it’s too late for Kin to complain that this seems to be getting expensive. He mumbles as much when their server is gone and Tio just smiles beatifically at him, asking how the visit to his mother earlier in the day had gone and hugely relieved when Kin’s expression softens and he says it went great, really great.

 

Tio notes, amongst their conversation, that they were damn right about the potato skins.

 

Their mains arrive piping hot and are promptly dusted with several spoonful’s of parmesan cheese and a generous amount of freshly cracked pepper for Kin, much to Tio’s displeasure as he shakes his head to the waiter’s question of whether he’d like any. The pepper grinder is over a foot tall, Kin says he’s probably overcompensating for something.

They’re about halfway through the meal, pizzas slightly dented and their bowls of pasta, carbonara for Kin and arrabiata for Tio, significantly less full, when a waitress pops up upon seeing their empty glasses and asks if they want a refill. Kin hesitates with that nervous, uncomfortable shifting in his seat as the young lady smiles at them encouragingly, and seems to both deflate and tense up when Tio says yes, they both do, thank you.

“You said you were an expensive date,” he remarks as she bustles off with their empty glasses and they’re left alone again, watching as all the topping slides off Kin’s pizza slice to splatter the plate. “Guess you weren’t kidding.”

He’s joking, but Kin seems unsure, forcing half a smile and eyes flitting over to the very enthusiastic toddler Tio can hear screaming behind him, “I did offer to pay too.”

“And I said no. There’s an olive on your shirt, by the way.”

 

It’s as he’s looking down, using a serviette to try and dab away the grease stain the escapee-olive had created, when a hand comes to rest on the back of Tio’s chair and a shadow falls over them, both literally and figuratively when Kin finally deems his task impossible and looks up.

The smile on his face dies and it seems like his appearance alone has sucked all the enjoyment out of this, out of their celebrations, “Taichi- I mean, Kurosawa.”

He pretends not to notice the swift change of name, the dip into cold formality, just moving to stand between them, hand still on Tio’s chair and unaware of the glare he shoots it, annoyed it’s so close to him. "What are you two boys up to, on a date?"

Tio goes to refute his claim, to save them from awkwardness if nothing else, but Kin speaks first, voice firmer than he's heard it around Kurosawa, watches his body language visibly turn away from his ex. "Yes."

He's surprised and it's obvious for only a second, but no hurt flits across his face as really it ought to, he just exhales a breathy laugh that might be the tiniest bit affected by what he'd just heard, and turns on that charming beam. "Oh, Kin I never saw you as a _player_ , dating two people at once, how naughty of you."

Anybody else saying that would be ridiculous, but he has the kind of face and mannerisms that mean he sounds more teasing than sinister, Tio not sure what to do because they aren't applying labels but it seems Kurosawa wants there to be one. At the moment, Tio thinks perhaps he’d like there to be one too.

"I'm not, I'm only dating one person." He looks visibly nervous when his eyes flit over to Tio, but he's aware of the ever-annoying ex staring at them both, analysing this as if trying to spot the lie, the joke they must be telling. So he just offers a warm smile because he supposes dating isn't too concrete a term, and this could be construed as a date, so technically it applies.

But mostly it’s because he really wants Kurosawa to fuck off and leave them alone. Preferably forever.

"Hm. I guess I'm not the person you're talking about."

"No. Sorry." Kin had seemed so confident, so sure of himself when he and Tio had first met, that now whenever he sees a bit of vulnerability in him, it takes him by surprise, noting he sounds genuinely apologetic. He isn’t too mad about it though, because he knows his heart is in the right place, with the right person. Or with somebody who is trying to be the right person, anyway.

"No, no. No need to apologise, I'm sure I'll find another pretty boy in a couple of weeks."

"I've no doubt." It would be a slight if he didn’t sound so genuine again, seemingly relaxed enough to take another mouthful of his beer as Kurosawa finally decides to leave them alone and go on his hunt for pretty boys. Tio is reluctant to admit that with looks like that, he won’t struggle to find somebody else to date.

"Well. It was nice seeing you again. I'm glad you're doing so well,” it’s the first honest thing Tio’s ever heard him say, and he’s surprised by the warmth of his words, the almost obvious relief that makes him wonder how much he’d known about his situation back then, when they’d been together.

"You too, Kurosawa."

"Thanks. Bye, Kin, Tio."

There’s no need to be childish, Tio figures, so he smiles and bids him goodbye as he would any other acquaintance, watching him walk off and meet with a group of presumed friends who are waiting by the entrance for him. Kin seems to recognise a couple of them, turning to offer a sheepish wave before they immediately turn back to Kurosawa for details he seems casual about revealing, earning consoling slaps on the back as they leave and they are finally left alone.

 

“I guess that’s the last we’ll see of him then,” Tio remarks ten minutes later, after they quietly resumed eating, worrying that the atmosphere of celebration and pure relaxation has been irreparably destroyed. It’s not the best conversation starter, but it slips out anyway and he supposes it was Kin who’d essentially told Kurosawa that there would never be anything between the two of them. He finds alarming joy in that.

“Yeah, probably. I, er,” he pauses, drinking some beer as if to moisten his dry mouth, Tio glancing back up at him as he swirls spaghetti onto his fork, surprised to see that newfound vulnerability in his eyes again. “Well, after we had that fight about Kurosawa, I did some thinking, and I realised you were right. It was stupid to go out with him again… I shouldn’t have _ever_ gone out with him. But I was, depressed, I guess, after everything with mum, and he was nice, showed an interest.”

He’s clearly uncomfortable, and while it’s flattering that he’s willing to share this, to admit how much his Mums condition affected him, this is meant to be fun and it’s getting too deep, “you don’t need to tell me this.”

“I know, I know- I, I get that. Just-“ He sighs, tines of his fork playing with the cream sauce left in the bottom of his dish, he looks embarrassed, vulnerable, a little ashamed maybe as he continues. “I was lonely, I guess he was just a way to distract myself, which is an awful reason to date someone. I- I’m not sure what I’m trying to say…”

“You got with him for the wrong reasons?”

“Mm. If I’d been in a better state of mind, he wouldn’t have been someone I’d choose. He was never a complete asshole, just… Not right. Then, when I went to get back with him, that wasn’t for the right reasons either,” his gaze is focused above Tio’s head, reading the quote about Italian food written on the pillar behind them, or maybe just finding somewhere else for his eyes to linger. “I don’t want to spend time with someone I don’t really like, it’s pointless. Jesus- I’m talking like I’m 80, not 23, I just mean-“

“You want something real.” Kin nods, glancing back down at him as Tio’s trainer-clad foot nudges his shin under the table, smiling across the table to him, “feel real to you?”

He looks bemused, at least until Tio continues to poke at his leg and honestly they’re basically playing footsie now, breaking out into an incredulous grin and laughing into his hand in disbelief as his own foot comes to join in, “irritatingly so.”

 

The tension of Kurosawas sudden appearance dies then, and Tio manages to convince Kin to accept dessert with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows that has their waitress looking uncomfortably amused and Kin laughing as he says that fine, he’ll have the tiramisu too.

 

They end up getting into a small disagreement at the till, the meal totals a little more than Kin is happy with and Tio point blank refuses to help him pay for it. The cashier looks like he’s trying not to laugh as he clears his throat and pretends to not be listening to their hissed argument, clicking away at the till in a way that is blatantly fake.

“Seriously, just the drinks or something.”

“No! It’s your birthday and I’m paying, deal with it!”

“Oh, you should have told us it was a birthday, we would have gotten all the wait staff to sing and bring you a complimentary miniature panettone.” Kin must look horrified by the idea, and Tio has to say he’s not exactly sad they didn’t get serenaded by the entire staff, because he laughs again and takes Tio’s coil payment before Kin can so much as blink. “Or maybe you’re glad we didn’t know, here’s your receipt. Have a good night guys, enjoy your birthday.”

 

“Close your eyes, and hold your hands out,” Kin raises an eyebrow at this command, biting back a joke about that being a little kinky as he realises Tio is being utterly serious, hiding the flash of sad nostalgia in his veins as he recalls his mother saying the exact same phrase to him on birthdays long since passed. “It’s kinda heavy, so don’t drop it.”

He has no idea what _‘it’_ is yet, but he soon finds out as a significantly large box is placed into his outstretched hands, sending them downwards to his knees as he adjusts his grip on the edges, there’s paper crinkling beneath his fingers and whatever it is seems to have been neatly wrapped. He feels across it tentatively, eyes still closed because he hasn’t been told to re-open them yet and he is trying to be gracious even as he realises he hadn’t expected to even get a present, especially not with how much Tio just spent on their meal and the beer they’d collected on the way back.

“You can open them now.” He does so, and the room comes back into warm, softly lit focus, the lamp behind Tio outlining him in yellow light and the expression on his face so endeared that Kin completely forgets about the mystery parcel in his lap. “Happy birthday, Kin.”

He smiles at the sentiment, feeling like he hasn’t heard that said to him in a while, fighting the ugly lump in his throat that he recognises as happiness, to look down at the large, immaculately wrapped box now resting in his lap as his hands squirm free to unwrap it. It could be anything, it’s just a rectangular box, there’s no noise when he lightly shakes it, but Tio looks chastising as he stops so perhaps it’s something delicate. “I don’t like the look of this.”

He sounds ungrateful but Tio just rolls his eyes, plops onto the couch beside him and orders him to: “Just unwrap the damn thing.”  
He tears off a small strip of paper first, wanting to savour the experience of having been gifted an actual present on his birthday, but freezes as a name he recognises comes into view, contents of the box obvious now and stopping in both horror and alarm to stare at Tio, “you’re not serious.”

“Before you freak,” too late for that, he thinks even as he speaks, looking at Kin’s boggling eyes as he finishes unwrapping it and his suspicions are cemented. “It’s not just from me. I got the team to chip in for a joint present and just mentioned your old laptop died. I didn’t pay for all of it. Though me and Mizuki _did_ made up the difference, they’re not the most generous lot.”

“Seriously? Everybody chipped in?”

“Mm-hm. But open it properly, I wanna see you set it up.”

“Tio, I- This is too much, I can’t accept this. How did you even get it? It’s brand new.” He gestures to the intact security seal on the boxes top and just looks completely in shock as Tio offers a small pocket-knife over so he can get through the packaging and actually see the laptop beyond the picture on the box.

“Tetsuya has a surprising amount of Yakuza contacts who hooked us up.”

“ _Tetsuya_?” The incredulity in his voice is almost tangible, because he is without a doubt the quietest, most reserved member of their team and is frankly a little timid, so to imagine him hobnobbing with the Yakuza is beyond belief.

“Yeah, I know, we were surprised too. But you _will_ accept it because you need it and there’s no way you can get another one yourself,” that might sting a little but it’s true regardless of his financial situation, new technology on the island is rare and usually a lot more expensive than it should be, you need contacts, usually in the Yakuza, and a decent amount of disposable cash to get something as new and perfect as this is. “And you need it. Not to mention that you deserve it. You’ve dealt with a lot of shit lately, you need something good.”

“Just for once.” A little self-depreciating, but Tio seems to understand that he gets the feeling behind the gesture of both himself and the rest of the team, that by Tio suggesting it and paying a decent chunk towards it, he’s trying to help get Kin back on his feet again. He’s been increasingly shaky the last few months, what with the burglary and the restaurant having a desire to crush the last of his spirit, and Tio has obviously noticed him struggle to even take care of himself. His various efforts to get him in fighting form to deal with all the shit the world is throwing at him seem to know no limits, buying him groceries and cooking him meals to make sure he eats right, fixing his apartment door when he had no way of doing it himself. He’d gone even further when Kin, drunk with exhaustion and stress had fallen asleep on his couch after the first movie in their bi-weekly film night, having just covered him with a blanket and left him to get his rest. He’d woken up the next morning, alone, disoriented but so deeply refreshed that he hadn’t even minded the act of selflessness that came with the bag of fresh pastries on the coffee table and the note saying Tio had gone to work and to help himself to anything he wanted.

“Precisely. Now come on, because it’s your birthday you can choose the movie and we’ve seen all of your DVD’s. Set it up and we can christen it with some nice old fashioned piracy.” He’s trying to lighten the mood but Kin still feels a bit like he wants to cry, thinking of the whole team chipping in to help him celebrate, thinking of Tio’s refusal to let the day go by without some kind of acknowledgment. He feels happy and guilty and overwhelmed all at once, and when he tries to express his gratitude he finds he literally can’t form words.

“I- Fuck, Tio- I- This is- I mean this is really, it’s just so… You know?”

“Yeah, I get it, you’re overwhelmed with gratitude. You’re welcome,” Kin has turned around to start up the laptop by then, and his hands are fidgeting over the keys like an excited child, his cheeks are tinged the lightest pink and for the first time in a while he looks really, really happy, like everything is going right. Tio leans closer to kiss his cheek and really cement the feeling, “happy birthday.”

But of course, Kin can’t leave it at just that, forgetting the excitement of a new toy immediately to turn and kiss him properly, mouth wide in a smile and hand coming up to his cheek to keep him in place as he twists at a ridiculous angle to accomplish this feat. He laughs when Tio pushes him off good-naturedly to tell him to pay attention to his damn present instead of him, he might even let the sentence, ‘you can kiss me whenever you want, how often do you get a new laptop?’ Slip out, but if Kin notices he’s too busy trying to get the shiny gadget to connect to his temperamental Wi-Fi.

 

They’re still just dating, taking things slowly, that’s what Tio’s brain says as they end up cuddled on the couch after several beers each and three films into their apparent marathon of the Final Destination franchise. His heart however, is far more comfortable with the heavy weight of Kin’s arm over his shoulders, it just feels comfort, and warmth, and the familiar smell of the ocean and really, for once it is far more rewarding to let his heart lead him.

 

* * *

 

 

They spend a lot of time lying in bed in silence together, one on their back and contemplating whatever it is that keeps sleep from claiming them both most nights. Occasionally they talk, but it never is very happy conversation, and the energy to respond sometimes fails Sly completely and he just shuts his eyes and pretends he doesn’t hear Mizuki’s sigh when he realises he’s being ignored. But then, maybe he’s just speaking to himself.

 

“Maybe this would be easy if we were somewhere else.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, staring at his dim reflection in the long mirror that hangs opposite the bed, spanning most of the far wall, this is easy enough to answer because it’s a stupid, desperate thought and abstract isn’t what they need right now. Abstract prolongs, and that is the last thing either of them want. “The island isn’t the problem. I am. Doesn’t matter where we go, I’d still be me, and you’d still be you. I once said to my brother, that maybe we’d both be better if we could go to the mainland. He told me the hospital wasn’t the problem for him, and the island wasn’t for me, we were both the problem.”

“That’s not very nice.”

It doesn’t fit into his mental image of his brother it seems, and Sly is quick to correct him because he won’t let his twin be spoken of with anything but kind words, it’s the least he deserves. “Nah, he said I could get better anyway. He didn’t mean it like that, he wouldn’t. He was a sap.”

“He loved you.”

“I know that.”

He doesn’t know how that makes Mizuki feel, but he gets out of bed a minute or so later and doesn’t come back until the moon has risen through the blinds and Sly is as close to a peaceful sleep as he’s going to get.

 

* * *

 

He needs to do something. Something to solidify this ending, to put a stop to it himself because he doesn’t know how long Mizuki will drag this out and while he can’t find it in himself to leave until he is told to, he can barely stand to stay either. Something needs to change and for once he will be the one to do it, and he knows exactly how.

Hell, it might even be fun.

 

* * *

 

 

This whole thing is ending because of Mizuki, and somehow that doesn’t feel right, Sly needs it to be his fault somehow, needs to do something that will make this whole thing irreparable, and he is selfish enough to drag somebody else into that. Somebody he knows will act first and ask questions later, or not at all.

 

“Sly. Something you want?” He doesn’t seem surprised that he’s shown up at his door unannounced, nor does he look annoyed that he’d suddenly reappeared after weeks of silence as if nothing had happened. He’s the perfect choice, he decides as he lets himself into the lavish apartment and honestly, this feels like a weirdly inevitable conclusion to this all.

“Get on the couch and take your clothes off,” his own shirt is off the moment he walks through the door, before Noiz can even close it behind him, and as he’d expected, Noiz takes this request remarkably calmly, unbuttoning his shirt even as he questions it in such a nonchalant way Sly knows he isn’t really bothered by the idea.

“Thought you didn’t fuck kids.”

“I don’t. I might let one fuck me though. Besides, you’re not a kid, right?”

“And Mizuki?”

“What about him?” That’s answer enough, Noiz guesses, wondering if Sly knows there’s CCTV in every room of his apartment, not sure he’d care even if he did.

 

* * *

 

 

"Where've you been?"

"Noiz's."

"All night?"

"Mm-hm," he slides his jeans off. There's a bite mark on his hip that Mizuki didn't make. Neither of them mention it even though they both know it's there. Maybe Sly just wanted a reason for things to be ending, wanted to be able to say it was because of his actions, not just who he was.

"Bit young for you, isn't he?"

"I guess."

Sly had expected anger, yelling, maybe even a fight, something more tangible to end this all with, he didn’t expect Mizuki to nod to acknowledge he’d heard him then climb into bed and turn off the light as if nothing had happened.

He hadn’t expected to feel this guilty, or guilty at all. But he realises that he can’t bring himself to lie next to Mizuki, to be in the same room as him after what he’d done, after letting somebody else mark his body and show it off so brazenly. He’d wanted fury, and rage and harsh words.

He hadn’t wanted that look in Mizuki’s eyes like his heart was breaking.

So he goes and curls up on the sofa with Amaya, and if she can smell somebody else on his clothing it doesn’t seem to bother her. Though from the lack of reaction, maybe it hadn’t really bothered Mizuki either.

It occurs to him that he’s been _unfaithful_. This whole time with Mizuki, since he indirectly moved in, hell, even before that, he’d been with nobody else. Weeks and weeks of only Mizuki touching him, only Mizuki kissing him, only Mizuki fucking him.

He didn’t really expect to feel like he’s done something really terrible. He’d done it to hurt him, to create a reason for these dissolving feelings between them, but now he’s done it there’s a cold pit in his stomach and he feels like he went too far. Like this was unforgivable and he wishes, possibly for the first time ever, that he could go back and undo it.

 

* * *

 

 

Mizuki has too much love to give, that’s the problem, he never had parents to love, or siblings, or any family at all. So it makes sense that when he gets attached sometimes he has too much to give, loves too hard, and while that works with some people, with his teammates who enjoy the feeling of togetherness and artificial family, some people take it badly, differently, see him as clingy and think his desire to keep them close stems from some kind of possessiveness, insecurity.

He has too much love to give, and with Sly he feels like his stores have finally depleted, Sly has successfully stolen the last ounce from him, and with that he is empty and has no more to offer, to him or anyone. He’d expected it to feel like a weight lifted when he finally met somebody he could give all his love to, but his chest feels hollow and his shoulders are heavier than ever.

 

* * *

 

 

“I expected us to actually fight, you know?”

“That’s the normal thing to do. We’re not really normal,” his voice is thick and almost croaky because he’s speaking so quietly, his eyes gaze into the distance and there’s something sad in them, a glimmer of their future, perhaps.

“I guess.” It goes quiet for a long while and Sly rolls over to go to sleep, thinking that this is going to drag on a little while longer, but then Mizuki speaks again and suddenly the idea of sleep is far more tempting and far less realistic.

“I think we’re over.”

It’s what he’s been waiting for, but he still can’t find it in himself to reply, not even when he knows Mizuki is waiting for him to say, or do something, he just stays there as Mizuki pads out of bed and pulls on sweatpants. The apartment door bangs behind him with finality, but really, it was all over way before he put his keys into the lock.

 

* * *

 

 

The words have been said, the fat lady has sung and the curtains are lowering over whatever this is they’ve developed over what seems like such a long time that Sly can barely remember life before it. He’ll need to remember soon, he realises as he packs his bag and heads into the living room where Mizuki is sat at the table as if expecting his arrival.

“All packed?” He asks like he’s going on a trip, not like he’s leaving forever and this is the last time they’ll ever share this space.

“Yep.”

“There’s some stuff in the kitchen for you,” he doesn’t gesture, doesn’t smile or do anything, his expression is blank and something in his eyes has dimmed as Sly walks past him, already dressed to go in worn trainers and his own clothing for once. He dumps the stuff into his bag and as his fingers brush Ren’s fur he’s glad he turned him off weeks ago. He doesn’t want his logic right now.

The sound of the zipper is harsh and he pulls the long strap over his shoulder, standing by the front door but hesitating as if they have any more words to say, thinking he should be able to find something and about to just turn and leave when he finally realises what he really wants, _needs,_ to hear right now.

Mizuki has already stood from his perch at the table and is halfway to the bathroom when he speaks and his voice is so incredibly steady that he’s surprised at himself.

“Tell me you don’t love me.”

He turns then, eyebrows drawn because Sly is definitely trying to hurt him now, taunting with this demand thrown across the room at him seconds after they’ve agreed, begrudgingly, to let this finally go. “What?”

“Before I leave, I want you to tell me you don’t love me.”

“Sly, you know I can’t.“ He could, it would be all too easy and his eyes have already dropped to the very patch of Sly jeans he knows conceals fading bruises.

“Even if it’s a lie.”

“What’s the poin-?”

His voice is firm and he finally is showing some emotion, almost snarling the words out and familiar fire in his eyes. Perhaps now he knows he’s free he’s turning back into himself, Mizuki can’t bring himself to resent that. If his fire had died, it’s the bartender who extinguished it. “Just, do it”

“Fine. I don’t love you. Happy now?”

“No. But then neither are you so that makes me feel a little bit better.”

It’s done, the words he needed to hear are said but he’s still lingering because Mizuki has something to say and if he asks for a final kiss Sly isn’t sure he’ll be able to give it.

“I did that for you, now you do something for me.”

“I’m pretty sure we both know I’m not good with compromise. But sure, what do you want?”

“I want you to smile.”

“Excuse me?” He’s confused, offended even, because why on earth would Mizuki want him to fucking _smile_ of all things?

“Smile.”

“Why would I smile? I know I’m sadistic but I can read a mood.”

“It would be nice to remember you smiling.”

“You make it sound like I’m dying.” Perhaps Mizuki wishes he was.

“Well I’m never gunna see you again, so you may as well be.”

“Mm. I guess this is goodbye then?” No point in drawing it out, bending to scoop up Amaya where she winds between his legs because if he can’t say goodbye to Mizuki conventionally, the least he can do is give her the farewell she deserves. She’s a good cat, he decides as she kneads at his chest and purrs happily, always so content in his arms.

“Yeah. Finally.”

He nods slowly, eyes casting around the room, hesitating on the golden ball in his arms, cuddling her close one last time before gently depositing her onto the couch where she immediately mewls as if she understands what’s going on. “Have a good life, I guess.”

“Yeah, make good choices,” he hadn’t been joking, but based on who he was talking to he supposes it’s a ridiculous thing to suggest, Sly actually laughing, a breathy huff or two of amusement escaping him. “You know you’re gunna be okay, right?”

But Mizuki gets the smile he wanted as the door opens and the final, tentative thread between them snaps, Sly pausing again with his expression so warm, lips turned upwards in the prettiest expression he’s ever seen on his face, and his words don’t match the tone.

“That’s funny, cause if anything I feel the opposite.”

**Author's Note:**

> Character Designs, updates, ficart and other things of interest- [here](http://minky-way.tumblr.com/tagged/intravenous-series)
> 
> Hey Alice, was this how you intended this fic to go?  
> Why no, it was not.  
> This was meant to be a lot angrier, with physical fights, Sly was meant to stab Mizuki through the hand at one point (???) and somehow it turned into this misery fest. So. Sorry???
> 
> Part six, 'Isolated' needs a LOT of editing and a LOT more writing, but will be up in due course!


End file.
